Hello! This is my first GoT fanfiction, hopefully it intrigues you enough to review, follow or favorite!
Her feet danced across the ground, hopping over loose rocks and branches. She ran through the forest with ease, her bow nestled in the crook of her elbow. The sun beat down on her bare shoulders, the dress her mother sewn her ripped and muddy at the ends. She had to wade in a knee deep stream to follow her target. The footsteps he left were deep, sloppy tracks that anyone with an eye could follow. She was gaining on him, fast. She was one of the fastest kids her age, not even the boys beginning puberty could hide from her. Tracking was her nature. Killing, however, was not on her agenda just yet. She caught up to the boy fast, grabbing him by the back and throwing him into the ground, drawing her bow and aiming it at his face.
"Caught ya, Jon Snow." She smirked, releasing the tension on her bow.
He grumbled, a slew of profanities and broken English. "I stand no chance against ya, Alyce McConnell."
She laughed. "Anyone with a brain would know that. I don't know why ya keep trying."
"Lord Stark wants me training so I can be as good as Robb and one day, him." He dusted the dirt off his pants.
Alyce snickered. "You're a bastard, Jon Snow. Doesn't matter if you get as good as Ned Stark. You'll never be good enough."
Jon Snow was an easy target for her. He was quick to anger, easy to fail. "You're just a bitch."
"Shut up before I knock your teeth in." Alyce snarled back.
Jon lunged for her, pushing her into the ground. They wrestled, teeth barred and claws out. She threw the boy off of her, pulling out the small dagger her father had given her for skinning rabbits. She straddled him, pointing the dagger at his throat.
"What in the hell is going on here?" She heard the booming voice of Ned Stark.
"I'm sorry Lord Stark, Jon attacked me after I caught him." Alyce boasted, climbing off Jon.
He shook his head, turning to Jon. "Boy, go clean up and help your mother with dinner. No training for the rest of the night."
Jon sneered at Alyce, wiping the dirt off his pants.
"Where did you get that dagger, girl? That's no toy." Ned took the knife from her, examining it.
"My father gave it to me. For when I go out hunting and need to skin things." She explained.
Ned laughed. "Shouldn't you be with Septa, learning how to sew? Girls don't need to know how to kill."
Alyce shook her head furiously. "I'd rather kill a thousand men than have to learn how to sew dresses, my Lord."
"You sound like my Arya. Come, I'm sure your mother has dinner waiting for you."
Alyce was escorted back into Winterfell by the Lord himself. Ned Stark was a family friend, Alyce's father advised him on small matters regarding the town. Their families were close as well, many of the Stark's would come over for dinner or just to chat and drink ale. Alyce watched as her eldest sister Mirinda swooned over Robb Stark, or when her younger brother Jerrin nearly got stabbed by a fork by Arya. They were almost like family, but blood was thicker than water here. Any of them would kill her without a second thought if their family name was in danger. Both families were of noble dissent, yet the Stark's were in control now.
Ned knocked on her family's door, Alyce in tow. Her mother answered the door, Alyce's youngest brother Toph balanced on her hip. He was a wee babe, only 3 years of age. He had the McConnell's signature white blonde hair, stunning blue eyes, and a jagged baby tooth in the center of his mouth. It was taking Toph an abnormally long time to grow in his first set of teeth, but the Maester was certain there shouldn't be any concern. Alyce's mother, Violet of house Tyrell, was a round, burly woman with a kind smile and an even kinder tongue. She had chestnut brown hair, warm eyes and a tiny button nose. She was married to father at age 16, and hadn't stopped popping babies out since.
"I found yer daughter trying to slit my Jon's throat in the woods. Thought I should bring her back home for that delicious dinner I smell cooking." Ned explained.
"Alyce, go speak to your father about this. That is no way to act, young lady." Violet scolded her, turning her eyes to Ned. "We're making a pig roast, you and your family are free to join."
"Ah, my wife is already slaving over the fire or else I would take you up on that. Is Greggard home?" Ned asked.
Alyce slithered in the house, bored by the conversation between Ned and her mother. Greggard McConnell was sitting at the head of the table, drinking ale and chatting with his sons. Orelian was the eldest son, heir to the McConnell estate and fortune. He was a brooding man, choosing not to take on a wife until father dies. Warren was the second in line, if you didn't count the two sisters born before him. He had mother's features, and was ridiculed constantly for not looking like a McConnell.
"Father, I got in trouble today." Alyce stated, standing next to her fathers chair.
He looked up from the documents on the table, scratching his grey goatee. He was an old man, balding and heavily wrinkled. He had a thick scar on his face, that started at his ear and ended at the jaw. He was wounded while serving in the Barratheon army down south.
"And what exactly did you do, girl?" He asked, sounding more annoyed than he was angry.
"I was out training Lord Stark's bastard boy when he started calling me names. So I took the dagger you gave me out and put it at his throat, threatening to kick his teeth in if he ever tried to fight me again." She explained, her eyes on the floorboards.
"Atta sister, sticking up for yourself." Orelian chuckled, Warren just shaking his head.
"Alyce, please think of who you're threatening to kill next time. Jon is family, just like the rest of the Starks. Now go clean up for dinner, you have dirt all over your jacket." Greggard dismissed her with a slight smirk on his face.
She nodded, grateful that there was no punishment. At least, no punishment yet. Sometimes father would spank her when she would come home after dark, or lash her with a belt in extreme cases. He never seemed happy punishing his daughters, knowing they were weaker than the boys. Father would constantly beat on Orelian and Warren, thinking that pain is what would make the boys into men. Orelian was hardly 15. Warren only 12. The next generation of McConnell's were still young, growing into what her father hoped, kings and queens. Alyce was never interested in that. The only thing that interested her was the wind beneath her feet, the rush of chasing down her target.
In her room, Alyce changed out of her hunting outfit into a pale green dress. Her nearly white blonde hair was in knots, taking several minutes to untangle. Many commonfolk thought that the McConnell's looked too similar to the Mad King, and whispers of muddy Targaryen blood were heard in the town. Alyce knew little of the Targaryen ruler, only of the horrendous things he had done to the people of the Seven Kingdom. Apparently he had a daughter and a son alive somewhere in the world, vying for their rightful seat on the Iron Throne. Like that would ever happen. She quickly plaited her hair, clipping it back with an ornate brass clip.
"Family, dinner is ready!" She heard her mother call, and rushed down the stairs. Dinner was always her favorite meal.
4 Years later
She woke up to a snowflake flitting onto her nose. Alyce had forgotten to close her window before falling asleep, and it had snowed overnight. The Starks were right, winter is coming. Alyce no longer could venture out into the forest, as the snow drifts were nearly knee high. Her room was bitterly cold, and her feet nearly froze to her slate floor as she ran to shut the window. She cursed herself for needing air last night. Alyce was hoping her handmaiden would visit soon, so she could tend to the fire. It was now just a pile of red hot embers and ash, nothing that could warm her room. Alyce's yellow nightdress was too light to be any sort of insulation. She jumped back into her warm bed, snuggling in between the fur blankets.
Her handmaiden came in about thirty minutes later. Selma Snow was a fair skinned beauty, for a bastard at least. Alyce was of noble blood, and was almost forced to look down upon bastards. All but one bastard. She shook the thought of him out of her mind, trying to stop the smile from creeping upon her lips whenever she thought of him.
"Could you start up a new fire in the hearth please, Selma?" Alyce asked her.
She nodded, setting down a couple of towels on Alyce's desk. "Would you like me to run you a bath before breakfast, My Lady?"
Alyce sat up in bed, stretching her back. "That would be great, thank you."
She watched, somewhat disinterested, as Selma tended to her room. She had a routine, that Alyce had also memorized. Selma would first empty her bed pot, cleaning it once a day. Then she would pick up any clothes Alyce had been too lazy to fold, putting them in a wicker basket to be washed. After that, Selma would take out all the dirty dishes from Alyce's dinner. Alyce liked to eat alone nowadays, yet she would usually have one or two Stark's or siblings in her room. Occasionally even Theon Greyjoy would show up.
"Your father has requested you in his room after breakfast, My Lady." Selma informed her.
Alyce was slightly confused. "Oh, alright. Thank you."
She followed Selma into the bathing room, getting undressed in front of the floor to ceiling mirror. She was nearly 18, her name day in only a fortnight. Her body had blossomed into womanhood. Alyce was still childhood height, with a mature body and face. She had grown out her nearly snow white colored hair to her waistline, which required daily baths to comb out the knots. Alyce lowered herself into the porcelain tub, the hot water tingling on her skin.
Selma scrubbed her back first, before pouring slightly cooler water from a basin over her scalp. Alyce focused on the small lavender petals and roses that floated in the water, giving off a fragrant odor that would follow her throughout the day. After her bath, Selma dried her hair with a towel and intricately braided it. Selma handed her one of Alyce's favorite dresses, a light blue number with gold silk spun in as an accent.
When she was fully dressed and ready for the day, she was ready to break her fast. Breakfast was already laid out on her bedroom table, thanks to the cooks her father hired. Golden toast, fresh goat butter and milk, with an assortment of fruits and pastries. Seated at the table, waiting for her, was Robb and Arya Stark.
"Goodmornin', Alyce." Arya said in between mouthfuls of sweet rolls.
Alyce laughed at the child, and her lack of manners. Robb was a bit more refined, waiting for Alyce to sit down before eating. The two were the quietest behind Jon, and this was no exception. They ate mainly in silence, only stopping to chat whenever Arya brought up some wild adventure in the forest. Alyce was slightly jealous of the child, still being young enough to play in the woods. Now, Alyce had family duty to attend to.
"Apparently my father wants to have a meeting with me after this meal." Alyce complained, buttering her last piece of toast.
"Probably about finding you a husband." Robb responded, winking at her.
She rolled her eyes, playfully pointing her butter knife at the eldest Stark. "You may be a Lord soon, but you'll never get anywhere near me boy."
"That mouth is going to get you in trouble, Lady." Robb chastised with a smile.
Alyce took a barbaric bite of her toast, cocking her eyebrows at Robb. She wouldn't let any man tell her what to do. The only man who had power over her now was her father. Alyce thought of her brothers as her equals, even though their gender proved otherwise. Orelian was a year older than her, but was much more mature. Father was getting older, and his deathbed seemed to be looming closer. Orelian was going to be the next Lord McConnell, much to Warren's jealousy. Warren had married a girl from King's Landing, and had moved there to start popping out McConnell babies.
After eating, she excused herself to her father's sleeping quarters. Mother was pregnant again, and was so large she couldn't share a bed with father anymore. She was due any day now, it was just a waiting game. Maester was convinced it was another boy, but mother doubted that. She told Alyce that all McConnell girls kicked up a storm in her womb, and this baby had already kicked a rib out of place.
She knocked three times, before cracking the door open. "Father?"
He was sitting at his polished oak desk, pondering over a letter. She could tell he was unhappy, as his brow was furled and his thumb was placed on the bridge of his nose. He was once a regal looking man, with broad shoulders and thick legs. Now, in his old age, he started to look frail.
"My beautiful daughter. Come, sit please." He motioned for the chair that was placed in front of his desk.
"Am I to be punished for something?" Alyce asked, making sure to keep her head bowed. It was a sign of respect to her father.
"Quite the opposite. You know now that you are quite old to still be unwed, yes?" He asked.
She felt her breath catch. "Did you send out a marriage request?"
"I did. You've been invited to King's Landing to meet Lord Jaquan. He lives in Meereen but is in King's Landing for political reasoning. He has a lot of power with the Lannisters."
She crinkled up her nose. "You're marrying me off to a Lannister supporter? You saw what happened to Bran when they visited here."
Lord McConnell sighed. "I know, Alyce. But our family needs more ally's. We are an unknown family, and marrying you off to a southern Lord will help mend those… tricky relationships."
"When do I leave?" Alyce tried to hold off her tears. This was her home. Not some southern pyramid in the middle of the desert.
"In a fortnight, the day after your nineteenth nameday. He is travelling here so you do not have to go to King's Landing alone. The Starks are also going to be there, you will not be alone."
"All of them?" She exclaimed. Luckily she caught her tongue before asking about who specifically would be going. No one was to know her true feelings for a certain Stark.
"No. Just the Lord, Arya and Sansa. He has been asked to be Hand to the King by Robert." Father showed no resentment.
Alyce knew father secretly resented Lord Stark. He was everything her father wished to be. His family name was powerful, everyone knew of the direwolf clan and their ruthless leader. Her father fought beside Ned numerous times, and was never given the recognition the Starks were. Marrying Alyce off would hopefully give him that power.
"What about the others? Lord Stark is just abandoning his wife?" She didn't want to pry.
"Robb is to become Lord of Winterfell. Catelyn is staying here to take care of Bran and Rickon. That bastard Ned raised is going to the Wall."
Her heart dropped. Jon was going to the Wall? She would never see him again, the second he takes the pledge she would lose him forever. She excused herself from her father, an action that is normally seen as rude. But her father seemed to be indifferent, going back to the writings on his desk. She felt tears pricking her eyes, which nearly froze to her face as she ran outside of her house. She knew exactly where Jon Snow would be. Training.
She walked to the training courtyard, trying to keep a calm face. She didn't want the commonfolk to see her cry, or anyone for that matter. Crying was for weak women, she was strong. Jon's back was to her, as he was swinging his sword over and over into a sack of grain. Robb was leaning against one of the walls, critiquing his half brother. He saw Alyce, slightly disheveled, and excused himself. Jon turned to look at her, and all she could feel towards him was anger.
"So you just weren't going to tell me then?" Her voice was only a whisper, but Jon recoiled.
"Alyce, I was going to. I didn't want to hurt you."
She felt hot tears spilling over, but she didn't care. The courtyard was deserted, as it was too early for most to be training. Jon was always an over achiever. Not like that mattered, with his heritage.
"Hurt me? You couldn't hurt me. I thought we were friends, Jon. Friends talk about this kind of shit before making rash decisions." Alyce swore, something that rarely happened. Swearing wasn't ladylike.
"I'm a bastard, Alyce. What else do I have to live for? Robb is going to be Lord of Winterfell, Sansa is betrothed to a prince, Catelyn wishes I was dead. The Wall is the only place where I can make a difference." He held Alyce by the shoulders, lowering his head to look into her eyes.
"Well, it's not like I'm staying here anyways. Father married me off to a Lord in Meereen." She snipped, trying to pull out of his touch.
She saw the hurt in Jon's eyes after she told him the news. "You're getting married?"
Alyce scoffed. "It's not like it's my choice. I leave the day after my nameday."
"Well, then I'll be here to see you leave. I won't be leaving until my Uncle comes back." He tried to smile, but it looked like a grimace.
Alyce would never admit she loved the bastard. It had happened gradually, and then all at once. She was 16 when she realized she had fallen for him. It was nothing but a torturous love, as she would never be wed to him. She was of noble blood, marrying a bastard was political and social suicide. However, when it was late at night his eyes were the ones she dreamt of.
"I can't believe you're giving up your entire life because you think you aren't worth more, Jon Snow." Alyce shook her head at him.
"I could say the same for you. You're a northerner, you belong here."
Alice was getting more and more bitter. "You think I have a choice? This is my family duty. Father think's it will give us power in the south."
He sighed, pulling his hands through his thick, black hair. How she wished she could do that to him.
"I thought we'd both grow old here." She continued, looking around at the thick cobblestone walls. "Start families, our children playfighting eachother out in the woods."
Jon snorted. "You think a girl here would want to marry Ned Stark's bastard?"
More than you know, she thought to herself. Instead, she bit her tongue.
"What the hell are you two doing up so early?" Theon Greyjoy's voice boomed through the training courtyard, startling her.
"Am I not allowed to speak to my family's closest ally, Theon?" Alyce returned, a smirk on her lips.
"He ain't a Stark, you know that." Theon lowered his voice a few octaves, speaking of a bastard was like cursing in front of Septa.
"I won't treat him any different than a trueborn." She raised her chin.
"M'lady, this is no place for you. Shouldn't you be learning to sew, or whatever it is you women do with your free time?" Theon said, his tone kind.
"Technically this is no place for me but" Alyce paused, taking a second to wet her pointer finger with her saliva "You can't tell me what to do!" She lunged for him, sticking her wet finger in his ear.
"Oh you little twat!" Theon laughed, playfully pushing her off.
Theon and Alyce had a bond others turned their noses up to. Theon treated her like a younger sibling, constantly teasing and prodding at her. They would spend warm summer days play fighting with sticks out in the fields by the Wierwood, sometimes with the other members of her family. Theon was the reason Warren had an ugly scar above his eyebrow, as the stick he was fighting with snapped right in his face.
"I'll talk to you at dinner, Jon Snow." Alyce called over her shoulder, trying to hold in the tears.
"Alyce, wait!" Jon called, but she did not look back.
For once, Alyce didn't feel bad for hurting him.